Authors: Kristan Higgins
“Right, kids, so here’s my lovely Honor, and as I was saying, boxing’s a sport for everyone, isn’t it, love?”
“It so is,” she said.
“Honor herself adores it, though you can’t tell from the look of her. But we’ve seen
Rocky
at least twenty times, isn’t that right, love?” He grinned at her, and her knees did buckle then, but she managed to stay upright.
“Oh, yes. At least. And
Cinderella Man.
”
“Right.” He gave her a squeeze. “Don’t forget
Warrior
.”
“And
Raging Bull
.”
He leaned in close, his mouth almost touching her ear. “You have no idea how randy you’re making me by knowing all these films,” he whispered, and her breath was suddenly ragged. He turned back to the kids. “And Honor here weighs about how much, love?”
“Nice try,” she said.
“Less than I do, at any rate. But if she knew where to hit—”
“The groin,” she said. “Go right for the nuts, girls. Sorry, boys, but it’s true.” Goggy nodded in agreement.
Tom turned and looked at her. “Darling! I didn’t know you had a violent streak. Yes, the groin is an excellent target. But say you can’t do that. You still have a lot of options. If Honor knew where and how to hit, she could level me. Couldn’t you, sweetheart?”
“Yes. I could.” Gray eyes. So...unfair, somehow, the gentle color of a rainy sky on a winter morning, and wasn’t someone feeling romantic? That mouth of his. She could do a lot with that mouth. Or rather, he could.
What are we waiting for?
the eggs asked.
How about “not an audience of children”?
Honor mentally answered.
Don’t get testy with us,
the eggs said.
We’re just trying to get a little action here.
“Into the ring with you, then,” Tom said.
What? Her stomach lurched. “Oh, I don’t think so. I’m not dressed for it.” Indeed. A pencil skirt and blouse, the sturdy-heeled pumps that Faith had deemed “not too nunnish” on their last lunch date.
“She’s not, is she?” Tom left her side, unbalancing her a bit, as she seemed to have leaned up against him. It was cold without him there. He bounded up the two stairs to the ring. “But that’s the point. You have to know you could defend yourself whenever you needed to, no matter what you were wearing. Come on, Honor, let’s show the kiddies how it’s done.”
Honor glanced at the teenagers, who waited expectantly. “Go for it,” Abby said.
“Yes, honey, do it,” Goggy said. “I want to see this.”
Hesitantly, she climbed the steps. “How do I get in here?” she murmured to Tom, who held the ropes for her. It looked very complicated.
“Just scoot in.”
“Right.” She started with one foot, then the other, holding her skirt down. Tripped (of course), only to have Tom grab her arm.
“There you are.” A slight smile flashed across his face.
“Hey, Honor! Look at you!”
Oh, fungus. A damning flush started prickling across her chest. “Hi, Brogan.”
Her former...person...walked over, gym bag slung over his shoulder, the easy grace of a natural athlete evident. “And Tom, isn’t it?” Brogan asked. “The lucky guy! We’ve met before. At Hugo’s?”
“Of course,” Tom said, reaching over the ropes to shake his hand. “Nice to see you again. Honor and I are just demonstrating a move for the kids.”
“Fantastic. I’m just in time.” Brogan set his bag down and folded his arms, winking at her.
After the little showdown in the cask room with Dana, Brogan had sent Honor an email, full of hearty congratulations and a few possible dates for dinner. Unsurprisingly, Honor hadn’t had any free time. Not that she’d looked. But now, seeing Brogan’s smiling face, she couldn’t help missing him. As a friend.
Yes. For the first time, his presence didn’t make her quiver. She smiled back at him, relieved.
“You ready, darling?” Tom asked.
She jerked her eyes to his face. His face was grim. “Ready for what?”
“To demonstrate a punch.”
“Not really,” she said. “Can someone else do this?”
“You’ll be brilliant. Kiddies, an uppercut starts here,” he said, holding his hands next to his temple. “You don’t scoop up so much as bend your knees and turn, like so—” he swiveled, bringing his shoulder down “—and hit with your whole body.” He demonstrated, touching her chin with his fist, his eyes on the assembled kids. “Bend your knees, turn so that it’s not just your arm doing the work, it’s the entire body, and extend that fist with the whole of you right behind it.” He went through the move again, slow motion. “Your turn, Honor.”
What looked like a fluid, easy motion was a lot harder when Honor tried it. It was hard not to feel self-conscious and awkward while everyone, including two-thirds of all the men she’d slept with, were watching. If there was anything less sexy than trying to channel Muhammad Ali while wearing a skirt and not-too-nunnish shoes, she didn’t know what it was.
“That’s it,” Tom said. “Practice a bit, Honor. Kids, you, as well.” He left her in the corner, bobbing like an idiot, and walked over to the other side of the ring to watch the kids’ form. “Hands up, don’t forget, you don’t want to leave yourself open. Mrs. Holland—Elizabeth, rather—don’t just stand there! Get moving, darling.” Goggy giggled and cooed and put her hands up and began punching the air quite vigorously. Good Lord.
“This punch is brilliant if you’re in close quarters,” Tom continued, “because it’s tight and brutal.” He demonstrated the move again. “So if someone’s got you against a wall or whatnot, this is your punch, and it’s a knockout if you do it right. That’s it, Molly, you’ve got it. Good job, Charlie. A little more pivot, Abby. Brilliant.”
He had a way with kids, that was certain. And they seemed to like him, too. Even Charlie looked a little more cheerful than usual, which wasn’t saying a lot, but still. The boy was supposed to come for dinner tonight. Hopefully, he’d speak.
“Looking good, On,” Brogan said, grinning up at her. She rolled her eyes. “No, really. You remind me of Iron Mike.”
“Thank you. He and I are very close.”
“He’s a good guy. I photographed him a few years ago out in Vegas.” He paused. “How’ve you been?”
“Good. Busy. You know. Just...wedding stuff.”
“I know. Dana’s gone crazy with it. And, uh, we’re kind of in a rush now.” His expression was sheepish. “Want to get it done before the baby.”
“Right.” Tom was showing Helena how to turn her arm, and Helena was eating it up.
“Anyway. It’s good to see you.”
“You, too. Um, do you box?” she asked, rather than have to stand here alone, punching air.
“A little. Here and there. You know me.”
Yes. He loved all things athletic, from rock climbing to rowing to football to sailing. Rather tiring to a person whose idea of outdoor activity was taking her book outside to read.
“All right, Honor?” Tom said, walking to her corner.
“For what?” she asked.
“To hit me, darling.” The kids laughed. Brogan, too.
“Oh, uh, no. No, thanks. I don’t want to hit you.”
He towed back to the center of the ring. “Sorry,” he said in a low voice. “Didn’t mean to interrupt your chat with Brandon.”
“Brogan.”
“Right.” His eyes were flat and neutral.
“We weren’t chatting,” she said. “We were just... It was nothing.”
“Of course it was nothing. Since you’re so in love with me and all.” He turned to the kids. “Pay attention, kids. Honor, hands up.”
“I’m not going to hit you.” Just the idea made her feel a little sick. “No, thanks.”
“Sure you are. I can take it.”
“No, really. I’m not comfortable doing this.”
“Exactly! Kids, did you hear that? She’s not comfortable fighting. And she does have a point. Most girls don’t grow up scrabbling in the schoolyard, do they? Maybe they’ve been conditioned not to hurt anyone, and yeah, it can go against the grain, which is all the more reason to learn this.”
Honor didn’t feel so good. Tom was right; her mother used to have a fit if they so much as wrestled. The one time fighting might’ve come in handy—aside from the catfight, of course—she’d been frozen in shock.
Crap. Not the time to remember that. Her heart seemed to thud in fits and starts, and there was a roaring in her ears.
“Come on now,” Tom said. “It’s a good lesson for them.” He raised the eyebrow with the scar running through it. “And you can look adorable in front of your boyfriend.”
“He’s not—”
“Ready, then?” He put his hands on her shoulders and turned toward the kids. “So say I’ve grabbed the
incredibly
beautiful Honor here.” He wrapped her in an abrupt hug, pinning her arms at her sides, and adrenaline spurted into her limbs. Her breath left in a gasp. Was it hot in here? “And then I shove her against a wall. No way out.” He pushed her gently against the corner post and leaned in. “Give me your money, or are you alone, sweetheart—you all get the idea, right?”
Why was she so nervous? Her legs were shaking, and gray spots were floating in front of her.
“She can’t get away, she’s totally helpless, she’s just a soft little female, or so I think. Okay, love, on the count of three, a right uppercut, bend your knees, turn that gorgeous—”
Her left fist appeared out of nowhere, slamming into his eye. Tom staggered back, one hand covering his eye. The kids gasped, hands flying over their mouths. Honor’s hand—her nonviolent hand—was over her mouth as well.
“Oh, my God, she hit him!” said one girl. “That’s so mean!”
“Are you all right?” he asked her. She tried to answer and couldn’t find her voice, nodded instead.
He was
bleeding
. Blood was pouring down his face. It seemed her engagement ring had cut him under the eye. Goggy clucked in concern and handed Tom a tissue, which instantly bloomed with red.
“I guess I was wrong about the soft helpless bit, yeah?” His voice was tight.
Her knuckles started to throb. Carlos Mendez was suddenly in the ring with a towel, and blood was dripping onto the mat. Brogan, too, came through the ropes. “You okay?” he asked, putting a warm hand on her shoulder.
“I’m so sorry,” she said to Tom, her voice thin and shaky.
“I’m fine, gang,” he said to the kids. “Honor here proved a good point. You’re all quite strong enough if the situation demands it, yeah? Her engagement ring caught me. Nothing to worry about. Shows the importance of blocking, doesn’t it.”
“You’re gonna need stiches, bro,” Carlos said.
Tom glanced at her, his eye already beginning to swell. “Feel like a run to hospital?” he asked. “Kids, class is over for today. Good job all around. Abby, would you mind driving Charlie home?”
* * *
“L
OOK
, I
TOLD
you I didn’t want to do it,” Honor snapped.
“And clearly you were sincere,” Tom snapped back, lifting the gauze the nurse had given him when they came in. “Quite the hotshot, aren’t you?”
“Yes! I am! The thing is, you were right,” she said, looking away. “Most women don’t fight for fun. I didn’t want to do it, I was nervous. I told you not to make me do it, but you wouldn’t listen.”
“Blame the victim, that’s it. Does ‘on the count of three’ mean nothing to you, darling, or was there another reason for that punch?”
“I was nervous! I’m sorry, okay? I’m really, really sorry.”
He gave her a one-eyed glare, the flesh around his eye puffy and red. “You’re welcome to make it up to me, darling. I can think of about ten things you can do for starters.”
“Don’t be a jerk,” she said, even as a hot, tight nervousness grabbed her insides.
“Hello, hello!” The door to the exam room opened, and a tiny Asian girl came in, roughly five foot nothing, ninety pounds and perhaps twelve years old. Honor instantly felt like an Amazon. Not in the good way. “I’m Dr. Chu, and what have we here?”
“A bit of a cut,” Tom said. “My girlfriend has a mean streak.”
“There was a slight accident,” Honor ground out.
“Dude, that’s awful!” the doctor said. “Bummer.”
“How old are you?” Honor asked.
“Um, twenty-three?” she answered. “I started college when I was, like, sixteen. A complete trip. But I’m totally a real doctor. Well, sort of. I’m an intern? And I’ve never done stitches before, so I’m totally psyched.”
“Great,” said Tom. “I have absolute faith in you.”
“Cool!” she said, turning on the water. “Washing hands, check. Pleasant demeanor, supercheck. So what happened, Mr., um, Barlow?”
“My fiancée punched me,” he said.
“OMG! That’s horrible!” She turned to Honor. “Are you his mother?”
“No!”
Kill us now,
said the eggs. “I’m the fiancée.”
Tom grinned. If she’d felt sorry about hitting him, it was fading. Fast.
“Really? Mr. Barlow, do you mind if she stays?”
Tom pondered the question. Honor sighed. “You’ll protect me, won’t you?” he asked, smiling at the tiny doctor.
“Totally! Yeah! Plus, I can always call Security?”
“Then I feel safe.” He cocked his good eyebrow at Honor as Dr. Chu pulled on exam gloves. “So sixteen when you started college, eh? I bet you’re really smart.”
“Not to toot my own horn? But I did graduate first in my class at Stanford.”
“Congratulations,” he said. “That’s incredible.”
“Thanks! So let me get to work here. Um, she punched you? Is that all? Like, how did you get this cut?”
“From her engagement ring.”
“Wow.
So
ironic,” Dr. Chu said.
“You’re telling me.”
The two shared an adorable smile.
“He was teaching a boxing class and
asked
me to hit him,” Honor said. Dr. Chu didn’t so much as flicker a glance in her direction, too busy lifting the gauze off Tom’s eye.
“Awesome! That’s some cut! Plus I think you’re gonna have a black eye! Kind of sexy, hopefully?”
“Whatever you say, Doctor.” His crooked tooth flashed, making him look like an incredibly appealing, adult version of the Artful Dodger from
Oliver Twist.
“Awesome! So, like, let me get stitching, okay?”
It was clearly the best day of Dr. Chu’s brief life. “Suture kit, check. Sterilizing the field, check! This is fun.”